


sandcastles

by mars (zinthos)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Romance, because why not amirite, written to the themes of beyonce's lemonade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinthos/pseuds/mars
Summary: For now, all Sakura hears is this:Sasuke-kun is to leave in three days to track the enemy down on a solo mission, to take however long it must so this can finally end. And Sasuke-kun accepts.There is something inside her that shakes.





	sandcastles

**intuition;**

 

 

Sakura looks up from the notes she’s taking, stares up at the young nurse that walks into her office with a manila folder against her chest. She gives her a quick smile before returning to her work, finishing her sentence. Her writing is messy, like any medic-nin.

“Did you hear, Sakura-sensei?”

“Hear what?” Sakura doesn't look up from her work.

“Well,” the nurse begins. She opens and closes her mouth, taking a little hop in place before she points at the folder, “Oh, that’s the folder of your 2 o’clock appointment with little Ume-chan.”

“Yes,” sakura nods. “I figured.”

“Well,” the nurse tries again, “I know I’m not supposed to know this…”

At this, Sakura drops her pen and leans back in her seat. Whenever something begins like this, it means she’s eavesdropped on something she isn’t supposed to. And it means she knows something that the Hokage, his adviser and Sakura's husband have been speaking about.

“But it would seem that the beasts that attacked during the Chuunin Exams two years ago is back… or had never left…”

Sakura’s mood sobers up. No, she thinks. Her mood had been sober the entire time. At the girl's comment, Sakura's mood is entirely drained and she suddenly feels very brittle. She stares at the nurse for what she assumes is a long time, long enough to lose herself in her thoughts. Lose herself so she does not notice the nurse excuse herself and leave.

She thinks:  _oh, Sasuke-kun_.

 

 

**denial;**

 

 

From then, she cannot concentrate. She ignores her notes on her observations of a patient in preference of staring out the window.

There’s a tree just outside it, the branches are thick and the leaves are big and green. They rustle with the soft breeze, dance from side to side and attempt to persuade her into distraction. But sakura’s thoughts are all the same:

There is to be a summit.

She knows how these things work and she’s not lost in her head enough to ignore the tiny toad that pops on her desk, leaves a thin scroll on her desk and then pops out of existence as quickly as it comes.

She does not open it. She already knows.

In fact, she knows exactly how all of this is going to go. But she refuses to accept it. She believes it’s going to be different. It has to. It will be. 

It has to.

It’s been two years. 

Sasuke-kun has been home. He’s settled down. He’s fallen into routine and he’s gotten comfortable. He’s fixed his relationship with their daughter, and they have talked… their family is complete.

They’re so happy.

This is what they have both wanted.

Yes.

He won’t go.

This is not his problem anymore.

Sakura looks up at the clock hanging on the wall of her office. It’s nearly two. Pressing her lips together she stands and grabs the manila folder off her desk. Her mind is fuzzy with thoughts of yes and no. There’s a thick line inside her head, dividing her mind with pros and cons and the latter is winning.

This had been his mission. With this development, it’s apparent that it’s incomplete and Sasuke-kun will never allow it to stay this way. Sasuke-kun… Sasuke-kun is not built to stay stagnant.

Sakura pauses in the hall, closes her eyes and shakes the thoughts out of her head. She manages to keep a clear mind for the duration of her checkup with the little girl but when she returns to the office, Sasuke-kun is sitting on her desk-chair.

“Hello,” he greets her.

She smiles at him and at the way he looks at her, she supposes she’s still unable to hide her feelings and he’s still too good at reading her.

“I got summoned,” he tells her. “Did you?”

“Yes,” she tells him, placing the folder on her desk. “Did you come to pick me up?”

“I did.”

She watches him stand from the chair, watches him circle the desk until he stands at her side. She closes her eyes when she feels his fingertips at the small of her back. With a soft smile, she lets him lead her away.

It’s been two years, she thinks. He must be restless.

 

 

**anger;**

 

 

In reality, the details are lost somewhere inside her. How Kaguya’s descendant survived the battle against her teammates and Boruto, what he wants now, where he is – all of it is lost inside her, forgotten, tucked away for later.

For now, all she hears is this: 

Sasuke-kun is to leave in three days to track him down on a solo mission, to take however long it must so this can finally end.

Sasuke-kun accepts.

There is something inside her that shakes. Like an earthquake that causes the earth to rumble, the mountains to disintegrate, the volcanoes to erupt. She moves slowly to face him; he stands at her side, closer to her than to the Seventh – of course, she is his wife, mother of his child, matriarch of his clan.

She stares at him for a second. Two seconds. Three. Six.

She turns around and walks out without a single word.

Does he follow her out? Sakura hates that she has to wonder. It’s not that she does not know him; she does. She knows him so intimately now. Knows his deepest fear and his greatest desires. It’s just that there are things that are so Sasuke-kun and things that are not; things that he does even if he normally wouldn’t, just because he wants to. Would he do this?

She entertains the question for another second. Sakura is too furious to care. So livid, her mind is shutting down. So furious, she does not realize he’s behind her until they’re at their house’s front door.

Did he follow her right after she left or is he just fast enough to catch up?

Sakura enters the house and he follows.

She goes up the stairs and he follows; one step at a time, slow, slow. There’s the creak of that step, the fourth one before they reach the top. Sakura knows she’s crying; of course she is. She cries when she’s furious, cries when she’s upset, cries when she’s happy.

Sakura cries. It’s what she does.

“You left before–”

“You accepted the mission,” she interrupts. “I think that’s all I needed to listen.”

He exhales and it sounds like a sigh. “Sakura…”

She whirls around to face him and her eyes are like acid as they burn with the intensity of her fury. Her chest aches as she stares at him and her hands curl to fists in her attempts to hide the way they shake.

“When is it my turn?” she asks him. “When will you be  _mine_?”

He looks at her for a second, as if confused. His brow is furrowed and his lips part as if ready to interrupt but there must be something in her expression that stops him, something that he sees that  _does_  something to him, that makes him pull away, look away, hide away.

“Revenge had you. Hate had you. Redemption had you. You left to keep the world safe for this new family,  _our_ family, and now you’re leaving again and for  _what_? When will  _I_ be enough?”

Sakura raises her hands and furiously swipes at her cheeks, sniffs and feels the way new tears replace the ones she’d just wiped away.

Sasuke-kun doesn’t look at her, prefers to look away, like he can’t stand to look at her like this or he can’t stand the guilt he feels to know he’s the one that always causes this. The thought makes the tears flow faster, makes the anger burn brighter.

It’s quiet for a long moment it’s so apparent how against him leaving she is, she doesn’t think she needs to voice it out. They stand there, at a standstill, in silence, in the middle of their living room, in the home they’ve built, in the home he’s leaving, in the home she wants him to stay in.

Sakura crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“So what is it going to be this time, Sasuke-kun? It’s so obvious I don’t want you to go.” She tilts her head and tries to meet his eyes. He doesn’t let her. “Are you going to knock me out again? Will you promise to see me soon? Again? Will I see you once every blue moon?” At this, he does turn to look at her, his mismatched eyes hard, his frown deep. Sakura’s laugh is sharp and hollow. She shakes her head at him, expression sad. “What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you.”

 

 

**apathy;**

 

 

Tension makes the house warm.

Sakura ignores it and concentrates on cooking dinner. She pushes all thoughts to the farthest regions of her mind, lets it stay clear and blank and instead focuses on worrying over the curry she’s preparing.

After their one-sided argument and after excusing himself, Sasuke-kun left to their bedroom and he has not come out since. She thinks he’s probably sharpening his tools. She isn’t too surprised; he likes doing this, does it for their daughter’s weapons and the katana he had forged for her thirteenth birthday.

For a second, she realizes, she’s sporting a small, soft smile at the memory and the excitement in Sarada’s eyes. Her daughter may like to throw punches, much like she does, but who wouldn’t love to become the master of a sword?

Then, the realization of where she is, what is happening and what is to be comes crashing down and she’s cold all over again. Her expression hardens and she frowns as she stares out to the garden as she washes the dishes, frowns as she adds the finishing touches to dinner and frowns some more when she listens to the bedroom door open just as the front door does.

"I’m home!”

Sarada runs up the stairs, jumping over the one that creaks and smiles at them upon ascending. She snatches her headband off, adjusts her glasses and excuses herself for a second to put her weapons pouch away.

“I’m starving,” she admits as she returns, pressing her cheek against Sakura’s chest in a warm embrace. “It was a long day.”

“I know,” Sakura agrees for an entirely different reason, her arms protectively going around her daughter.

Sasuke-kun takes his seat.

“Papa?” Sarada asks as she sits down next to him. She blinks up at him and Sasuke-kun quietly turns to her, his expression soft. Pained. But their daughter won’t be able to see that. Not now, when she’s so young. “Are we still going to train on Saturday morning? Konohamaru-sensei tried to set up a team training session that day to make up for today – I don’t want to talk about it – but I said I was busy.”

Sakura raises an eyebrow, head lowered as she entertains her meal. Sasuke-kun won’t be here on Saturday anymore.

He sighs and sets his cup of water down, shifts so he can face their daughter in a more comfortable position.

“Sarada,” he begins and Sakura looks up to watch this. “I will be leaving on Thursday…”

Sarada blinks at him, turns to Sakura for clarification and her expression makes Sakura’s dull chest ache some more but she fights it, remains silent. This is Sasuke-kun’s business. 

“Oh? But why?”

“That mission that kept me away for so long, before, seems to be incomplete.” He lifts his hand up and scratches at his jaw. “Since it had been my mission, I must go and complete it.”

Sarada hums in understanding, a habit she seems to have picked up from her father. “That would only seem right… how long will you be away…?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“Soon, I hope.”

“I hope so, too.”

After dinner, Sarada and Sasuke-kun wash the dishes. Sakura cleans the table and puts away any leftovers. Sarada excuses herself to her room and Sakura leaves soon after where she begins to put away the half-finished laundry from earlier that morning.

Sasuke-kun walks in when she’s hanging one of his shirts, her name rolling off his tongue, his voice soft, low, drawling.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“You’re being childish about this, don’t you think?”

She turns to him, her hands still touching his shirt. She wishes he could feel how she feels, felt how she’s felt, loved her how she’s loved him, waited how she’s waited.

“Okay,” she says. It’s dismissive. Did he try to rile her up with an offense? Okay. Dismissed. She watches the fight leave him. Watches him take his vest off, his shirt off, switch his nin-pants for looser ones that ride lower around his hips.

He doesn’t try after that and he falls asleep with the lights on as she continues to put laundry away.

 

 

**emptiness;**

 

 

There was a time where she would think he was alert and aware of her watching him, her exact position, her close proximity. He’ll be tense, one breath away from reaching out, catching her wrist in mid-air, keeping her from touching him.

She knows him too much now. He’s fast asleep. There is no reason for him to be on guard, to be so aware. Not when he’s at home. Not when she’s at his side. Not when he’s here. With her.

Sakura lies on her side of the bed, on her side and she does what she thinks is the most Sakura thing to do: she studies him. Watches him sleep. Looks at him at his most vulnerable. Engraves this moment in her head as if it’s the first time.

She traces his profile with her stare. His sharp angles; those full lips, that sharp jaw, the definition of that sharp clavicle against his tanned skin. She follows the length of his hair, the way it’s just shy from reaching his bare shoulders.

Some of the strands, she observes, curve inwardly, falls over his throat like a choker. Lowering her attention she admires the soft rise and fall of his chest, the white scars that pepper his skin like his own version of freckles, glowing against the moon. These, like the smooth lines of his lean muscles and the jagged way he’s put himself together are what define him.

And, oh, how she loves this mess he is. Sakura closes her eyes, subconsciously moving closer, searching for his body heat. She’d gotten so used to sharing a bed, sharing a room, sharing a  _life_.

It’s so different to share with her daughter than to share with her husband. There are just things she can’t talk about with Sarada. She’d gotten so comfortable… so used to this.

Like coming home to him already here, doing something mundane; some housework or reading a scroll or just  _being here_. Or like this… like lying in bed together, with him in his spot and she in hers and he’ll curl a finger around strands of her hair over and over for who knows how long because she always falls asleep to the nice feeling.

She clenches her eyes shut and wills herself to sleep. It’s better than succumbing to the empty feeling threatening to devour her.

 

 

**loss;**

 

 

The day he leaves is like all the others. Sunny with a soft breeze. The streets are busy with villagers buying goods, vendors eager to sell and shinobi coming and going.

The Uchihas walk in silence, close with their elbows brushing and the Uchiha fan proud on their backs. Sakura smiles softly at the people she knows, sometimes waving, if she feels it is needed.

For a second she entertains the wonder of what they must think; she’s walking her husband to the gates again. Oh, Sakura’s husband is going to be gone again? What kind of relationship is that, really?

She presses her lips together, her cheekbones burning in annoyance to her own stupidity. Sarada keeps a small conversation with Sasuke-kun, tells him about what her sensei has planned for their team, she’ll practice with her katana while he’s away so they can spar when he’s back.

“Maybe we’ll bump into each other when I’m on missions,” she says, hopeful.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

They pause at the gates and he turns to face them. Sarada is pouting and Sakura smiles; for all her nonchalance, she is still upset at parting ways with her father again.

“Don’t make that face,” Sasuke-kun drawls, crouching to her level, brow furrowing into an expression almost similar to hers. “It won’t be long.”

"I know…”

He pokes her forehead before she says whatever else she wants to say and Sarada blinks up again, her cheeks pink and her lips stretched into a smile. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he tells her, standing up to his full height and Sarada nods her head, sniffing.

Sasuke-kun turns to her and Sakura quietly extends her arm, his lunch in her hand. He stares at it for a moment and Sakura observes it as well; the uchiha fan on the bag, the boxes neatly stacked, the red chopsticks, the napkins.

He reaches to take it, his eyes finding hers and holding her stare as his fingers brush against hers.

Sakura sucks in air, freezes for a second. They haven’t been on speaking terms since the day of the summit and have only tried to act civil in front of their daughter. Still such bold actions… biting the inside of her cheek, she looks away.

 

 

**accountability;**

 

 

The days pass and, with them, Sakura continues on with what she does. She works at her clinic, assessing children’s mental health, helping them cope with loss and whatever negative development stays or resurfaces after leaving.

She shares the workload at home with her daughter, an offer given to her by Sarada one morning over breakfast that had made her laugh. She only said yes because she’d said she’d give an answer if Sarada would tell her what brought this up.

Of course Sasuke-kun would ask Sarada for this favor.

Sasuke-kun…

She tries not to think too much about it. About him. But that, unsurprisingly, proves to be an impossibility. She is still furious. She feels it in her chest, thick and sticky and violent in the most passive way.

That–!

And that is just it, isn’t it?

That is how this has always been.

She’s always been so passive.

She and Sasuke-kun… their relationship has always been such a hard one to define. Were they friends? Were they enemies? Did he care? Did he not? What was she to him? 

It’s like he meant one thing, but she’d always been so passive with him, whatever his intentions were, ended up warped and twisted. Or maybe he wanted it that way. Maybe she was so passive with him, he saw it as his chance to try and cut her off because she meant something.

Maybe it was both.

Maybe it was something, one thing, two things. So many things, all at once. Things she could have understood but didn’t because she was so damn  _passive_.

Lost in translation, yet they were speaking the same language the entire time.

All this was just as much her fault as it was his. She should be harder, angrier, more assertive. Be in his plans, in his processes instead of always having to stand on the sidelines.

Be less  _passive_.

She stops thinking about this when she breaks the edge of her desk.

 

 

**reformation;**

 

 

Days turn into weeks and those accumulate into a month. Suddenly, one turns into two. With time moving forward, Sakura stops torturing herself with so many thoughts, stops trying to pin the blame on someone and tries to just stay in the present.

It is what she has always done, isn’t it?

She thinks talking to Ino might have helped clear the fog in her head as well. In fact, she’s sure. Ino may still be furious for her, whereas Sakura has been over that stage long ago, but Ino also flaps a hand and waves off any lingering doubt and points out the most obvious of things.

Sakura loves Sasuke-kun so much, she can’t stand it.

It’s the most natural of things that comes to her, like breathing, like the rise and fall of her chest as her lungs fill and grow empty with air. Like the pump of her heart. Like living.

It is like the growth of a flower – her namesake – where it began as the shallowest of a crush and blossomed and bloomed into the most beautiful, strongest kind of love. And like a flower, her love breaks away from her, follows him, finds him, coaxes him to come back.

She loves him. Him and his ambition. His viciousness.

She loves that impassive look in those mismatched eyes. The way how, the second she comes into his range, he grows more alert and he how tries to hide it. But, oh Sasuke-kun, she knows him too well. 

She loves his habit of catnapping wherever he can. His trust of her presence, so much so that he lets his guard down entirely when she's with him. She loves that he doesn’t waste words, how precise he is in what he wants to say. His bluntness. His sarcasm.

Sakura closes her eyes as the shower-head lets hot water pelt down on her. Her thoughts are like whirlpools; wide open, slow and lazy around her head and picking up speed down to her heart.

behind her closed eyelids, she can still see that moment when they were sixteen and so close to finished with the war. Sasuke-kun’s pause, her tears and desperation, the raw ache inside her and his hesitation.

That look in his Rinnegan. That tilt in his lips. The shadows under his eyes.

Sakura opens her eyes and stares at the steam curling around her, at the tiled walls. That look was sadder than the smile he gave her the first time he poked her forehead but… in a way it almost… felt… 

Sakura sighs.

“Sasuke-kun…” 

He loves her too. This is something that no one’s needed to point out to her; not Ino and her biting words that heal soon after. Not Naruto and his endless sunshine. Not anyone but him and the way he’d come back after those two years, after his trip for redemption. He’d come straight to her and said “I'm home, Sakura.”

Him and the way he kissed her for the first time; the same way he always does. Soft, almost hesitant, at the same time so demanding, so giving. Here, I'm giving myself to you, here, this is all I have, here, I’m here. 

The way he touches her. His fingertips just barely brushing against her skin, pressed against the small of her back, guiding. Their knuckles brushing. Their elbows pushing. Their thighs resting. 

It leaves her breathless.

Sakura brushes a hand against the mirror and stares at her drenched reflection. Pink haired, green eyed, freckle faced, freckle shouldered.

This is the woman Sasuke-kun loves.

She will not forget this again.

 

 

**forgiveness;**

 

 

She feels a calmness inside her that feels both foreign and familiar. It nestles in the soft, squishy spot behind her ribcage, plants itself, roots itself and connects to her veins. She does not even notice the third month pass by.

There’s a lightness in her. Like she’s floating. A quietness, like a hum.

Sakura smiles more, not that she’s ever stopped. But it’s more contagious now. Like a kind of disease; one that the villagers and her friends don’t mind catching.

Reanimated, she supposes. Perhaps that is the word.

She walks down the busy streets of Konoha, bags of groceries in her hands, her daughter next to her.

Sasuke-kun left her once, that time he left her on a bench with a quiet thank you and nothing more. The second time, he left her with a promise and the first smile he’s ever directed to her and only her. A poke to her forehead – her  _forehead_ , one of her biggest insecurities and the place where the mark of her biggest feat is – that, before he ever kissed her, was better than a kiss. 

He’s left her a third time with their daughter in order to make the world safe for her, for them, their family. Secure their future.

And now the fourth.

“Mama, do you think Papa will come back home before his birthday?”

“I don’t know,” she earnestly replies. “Why?”

Sarada shrugs a shoulder. “We had fun last year. I don’t want him to be alone this year…” She wrinkles her nose. “Papa’s always alone.”

“No he’s not.” Sakura smiles at her, bumps their hips together. “We’re connected, the three of us.”

Sarada blinks as she stumbles back closer to her after being bumped aside. She smiles back at her but doesn’t say a thing.

Sakura looks up to the sky for the briefest of moments. Of course… they’re connected. If this calmness, this lightness, is inside her. Nestled, rooted. If she is full of forgiveness and is waiting for him, then he knows.

 

 

**resurrection;**

 

 

The tap echoes, the soft wind carrying it into her room. If not for the stillness of the night, she would not have heard it. But she’s alone at home; her husband has been away for months and her daughter is out on a mission with her team and there’s a tap-tap-tap–on glass?

Sakura sits up, green eyes blinking sleep away, studying the shadows of the darkness even as she moves the covers from her body. she swings her legs to the edge of the bed, moves towards the door and silently makes her way out the hall, down to the kitchen where the tapping is loudest.

The hawk is on the ground, the sharp point of his beak tapping against the glass sliding door of the balcony one last time before flapping it’s dark wings and perching itself onto the railings. His yellow eyes are sharp and angry, head tilted.

Sakura’s movements are quick now: she slides the door open just enough to let the hawk and a bit of the night’s chill in and closes it as he flaps inside, moves to the perch at the corner.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, coming closer, arms wrapped around herself.

The hawk pauses from scratching himself and regards her for a moment before he moves closer and nips her with his sharp beak, reaches with his talon and wraps it around her wrist for a fraction of a second.

Sakura understands and her thin lips twitch at the corner, eyes closing. There’s no message sent, no small package. Just the hawk. His presence but not his presence.

“I know,” she breathes, the tip of her finger stroking the space above the hawk’s beak. “You must be hungry.”

The hawk cries sharply.

 

 

**hope;**

 

 

“Sakura!”

Blinking, she turns around and nearly loses her footing at the sight of the Rookies making their way towards her, hurried and almost worried. She stares at them, trying to make out what the problem is through their expressions.

“Have you heard?” Ino asks as she stops in front of her. She doesn’t give Sakura time to answer as she continues. “Naruto left to meet up with Sasuke. Temari told me because Shikamaru didn’t show up for InoShikaChou training  _again_.”

Sakura stares at her unblinkingly, a ringing in her ears and her hands subconsciously curling into tight fists. She spares an ounce of her glare to each of her friends before she bites out a quick, “ _W_ _hat_?”

Ino shrugs a shoulder. “You know we aren’t informed about these things the way you are. They’re  _your_  teammates, though. And Naruto’s the damn _H_ _okage_ , what the hell is he doing?!”

“ _B_ _eing a damn idiot_!” Sakura stomps a foot and ground shakes a bit. 

Kiba curses under his breath and Chouji steadies him. Ino is unfazed.

Closing her eyes she exhales her anger, relaxing her stiff posture and letting the simmering fight inside her cool down. She opens her eyes and looks out to the distance, towards the general direction of the entrance to the village, a worried expression on her pretty face.

They’re both being reckless. It’s how they are. They’re idiots and they make her so tired. But… Maybe this once she can pretend not to notice and not go after them to punch some sense into their stupid heads. 

Because maybe this way Sasuke-kun can finally come home. And stay home. For good.

“Idiots,” she growls. She waves it off and waves at her friends. “Don’t worry about them. This is their thrill.”

“You’re not going to go after them?” Chouji asked.

“No,” Sakura says, eyes closed and her hidden smile hopeful. “Not this time. I have a date with my daughter at the tea shop.”

 

 

**redemption;**

 

 

There’s an unhealed cut at the side of his lower lip, another one at his jaw. His clothes are dirtied, a bit ripped, a bit splattered with blood both his and not. His hair is messy, falling close to his shoulders, parted to messily cover his Rinnegan eye.

“Hello,” he greets, his ascension up the steps slow.

Sakura tilts her head and smiles at him. “How did you find me?”

Sasuke-kun doesn’t answer but he comes to a stop next to her, one step below her. They’re hidden behind the shrub and the small trees but Konoha stands out below them in all her glory.

For a moment, they watch her.

This is the village he left her for twice. This is the village he left to protect. His family included, yes, but ultimately, it all came down to this.

Sakura closes her eyes when she feels it.

First, the bump of his larger knuckles against her sharper ones. Then, the way his larger fingers coax her thinner ones apart, tuck themselves in the spaces in between. 

Sakura bites her lip and feels the way his hand moves to touch her pinky, her ring finger. She takes his hand in hers and for a moment he does not move but she forgets to breathe when he curls his fingers to take hers in his.

She nudges her chin to the village. “They don’t love you like I love you.”

“Sakura–”

She turns to him. 

“Slow down,” she breathes, eyes closed. She wants him to understand. The village, duty, honor, glory…  _ghosts…_ “They don’t love you like I love you.”

She’s so lost in the feel of his hand in hers, she’s startled when he kisses her. Soft, as he always is, hesitant, as he always is, raw, as he always is, demanding, as he always is. 

Hers, as he’s always been.

**Author's Note:**

> hold up, they don't love you like i love you


End file.
